


Better Left Unsaid

by Toomanyfandoms99



Series: Lebanon Codas: A Trilogy [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Episode: s14e13 Lebanon, M/M, Post-Episode: s14e13 Lebanon, Temporal Paradox, The Empty (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-28
Updated: 2019-02-28
Packaged: 2019-11-06 18:19:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17944751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toomanyfandoms99/pseuds/Toomanyfandoms99
Summary: Castiel was practically vibrating, his body coiled and prepared to strike at any sign of danger to his wellbeing.  Castiel hadn’t looked away from Dean, though, staring down at him with something akin to puzzlement.  He tilted his head to the side, studying Dean as his eyes refocused on the warrior angel above him.Dean said hoarsely, “Cas, you know me.  Once upon a time, you knew me.”





	Better Left Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> The title was taken from the Ariana Grande song of the same name. This is the second in my trilogy of unrelated codas. Enjoy!

Dean gasped for breath as Castiel held him up against the wall.

Castiel choking him wasn’t the least bit ideal.

“Cas,” he heaved, “stop it.”

Castiel’s fingers loosened their hold on his throat.

Dean managed hoarsely, “Cas, please. You know me.”

That visibly confused the angel, but his grip left Dean’s throat. Dean’s knees buckled as he fell to the ground, choking as he inhaled gulps of air.

Dean shut his eyes and regained his composure, gasping in breaths and swallowing spit with his bruised throat. His heart was hammering in his chest as his ears rang in the eerie silence of the restaurant.

Dean heard his clumsy oaf of a brother slap his palm on a tabletop, making to stand on shaky legs. He heard Castiel’s angel blade unsheath from his trench coat pocket. Dean’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he tilted his head up and opened his eyes.

Castiel was practically vibrating, his body coiled and prepared to strike at any sign of danger to his wellbeing. Castiel hadn’t looked away from Dean, though, staring down at him with something akin to puzzlement. He tilted his head to the side, studying Dean as his eyes refocused on the warrior angel above him.

Dean said hoarsely, “Cas, you know me. Once upon a time, you knew me.”

“Someone is messing with time,” Castiel said blankly. “It’s you.” Castiel turned around, his eyes narrowing upon seeing a conscious Sam using the table as a crutch. “It’s both of you.”

Sam grimaced, blood trailing from his forehead to his cheekbone. He was bound to pass out at some point from that hit, but Dean hopes not now. He didn’t feel like lugging Sam to the car and back home.

Dean said, “it was my mistake.”

Castiel swiveled his head back to Dean. His hand gripped the handle of the angel blade. “I should kill you.”

Dean chuckled. “I’ve heard that one before.”

Castiel furrowed his eyebrows. “I don’t understand. Is this amusing to you?”

Dean shook his head. “It’s not.” He placed his palms on the tile floor and made to stand. He held out one hand to signal a particularly jumpy Castiel that he was only regaining his footing. Once Dean was up, he leaned his back against the wall in case his legs decided to give out again. “We can fix it.”

Castiel blinked in surprise. He slid his angel blade back into his inner trench coat pocket. “Okay. It needs to be fixed immediately. Where must I go?”

“Hold it there, feathers,” Dean drawled, “I can promise you Sam and I will fix it, but you ain’t coming.”

Castiel tensed up, winding himself up like a spring-loaded jack-in-the-box. “I am a celestial being, an angel warrior of God,” he rumbled, “and I can snap you in half with a thought. You have the gall to call me,” he spat venomously, “feathers?!”

Dean held out another hand. “Okay. Sorry. I forgot how testy you used to be.”

Dean caught Sam smirk from behind Castiel’s shoulder. He ignored it for his own safety.

Castiel clenched his jaw and released his fist. “I think I would remember you.”

Dean smiled wryly. “Me too, Cas. Me too.” He pushed himself away from the wall. “I need you to trust me to fix this. You can’t come.”

“And why is that?” Castiel rumbled, as fierce as a thunderclap in the dead of night.

“The pearl that did this is in a heavily-warded bunker.” Dean bluffed the next part. “You literally cannot step foot inside.”

The truth is, Dean didn’t know the state of the bunker in this new timeline. If John was alive, though, he could bet the bunker is twice as fortified as it is in his timeline. Dean purposefully left out angel wards so that Castiel and Jack could enter and exit with no problems. The bunker was probably rigged with all sorts of deadly traps.

Castiel, however, was convinced. His tense shoulders drooped, and his stance was free of the electricity it always had when he was in attack mode. “You have thirty minutes to comply, or I’ll kill you both,” he growled out, “slowly.”

A rustle of invisible wings resounded in the restaurant as Castiel disappeared.

Dean looked at his brother’s tired eyes from across the room and barked, “get in the car before you pass out.”

————

Cas, he said. Cas.

Castiel had no idea why the nickname caused him to halt in his attack.

Until memories that weren’t his were dumped into his brain, as carelessly as a trash bag into a nondescript wasteland.

He saw himself through the man’s eyes, descending upon him in a barn graffitied with dozens of sigils. He saw himself attack the man, but stop every time before he could kill him. Over and over again, in multiple ways. In multiple locales. In an alleyway, saying he gave up everything for this man. In Heaven, being told to kill this man, but not having the strength to do it. In a crypt, punching the man and punching him hard, but not killing him. Hurting him, but not killing him. The images shifted to happier ones, where the man smiled at him and laughed with him over a street lamp and looked at him like no one ever has before. He saw the man’s lips curve around his monosyllabic name and sound it out with a fondness and richness that nearly made Cas reel back in confusion.

Dean. His name was Dean.

Castiel knew it, then. The man’s name is Dean, and he remembers a Castiel that wasn’t him and doesn’t exist anymore.

As Castiel flew through the clouds and absorbed the last moments of his life, he realized he wants another Castiel to take his place.

That Castiel was happier than he had ever been.

————

As Cas allowed Jack to enter the bunker first, he leaned against the car door in realization.

Something happened. Something changed.

In the spaces between Flint, Michigan and Lebanon, Kansas, something changed.

A dam burst in Cas’s mind, and the flood nearly had him gasping for oxygen. He gripped the handle of the car for leverage, refusing to let his knees buckle and fall into the snow-slushed ground. Images flew into his mind and played like a film, Cas closing his eyes and letting it happen.

A temporal paradox. Zachariah. Another version of himself, one that never rebelled and fell from Heaven. A fight in a restaurant. 

Castiel’s hands closed around Dean’s neck.

Cas forced his eyes open, shaking his head, tears springing up in his eyelids.

More images were transparent against the ground. Castiel stopping his assault upon Dean speaking his name. Castiel backing down. Castiel allowing them to fix the timeline.

Castiel flying away, feeling at peace with his decision to set the Winchesters free.

Cas stumbled on his own two feet, walking forward with a heavy heart. He tore open the bunker door clumsily, with a loud thunderous tug on reinforced steel.

Jack was halted near the staircase railing, and Cas shadowed his smaller form.

Dean, Sam, and Mary rushed in at the sound of their entrances. Cas felt a punch to the gut at Sam and Dean’s injured faces.

Cas set a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “Go put your things back in your room.”

Jack opened his mouth and looked up to protest, but Cas’s stern expression stopped him. Jack went down the staircase with his bag and nodded to the Winchesters as he exited into the hallway.

Cas descended the staircase next, sensing Dean’s eyes on him more than Sam’s or Mary’s.

Cas regarded the family with, “a temporal paradox, correct?”

Dean’s mouth fell open. “Y-you...you remember?!”

Cas batted his eyelashes a single time and crossed his arms. “What possessed you to do that?”

“Come on,” Sam said, leading the way into the kitchen, “I’ll explain.”

Dean glanced sheepishly at Cas, then made to follow his brother and Mary.

————

Dean found Cas in the library that night, amusing himself with shelving back rarely-used lore.

Dean made himself known by leaning against the bookcase Cas was reorganizing. 

Cas blinked to the side, halting in his progress. “Hello, Dean.”

“Look, Cas,” Dean blurted, “I feel like we should talk.”

If only Dean had been a year earlier with that proclamation.

The Empty’s words haunted him, day and night, rain and shine. “I want you to suffer. I want you to go back to your normal life, and then forget about this and forget about me. And then, when you finally give yourself permission to be happy and let the sun shine on your face, that’s when I’ll come. That’s when I’ll come to drag you to nothing.”

They echoed through his brain, and Cas clenched his jaw.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” Cas said, nearly convincing himself with the ease in which he told the biggest lie of his life.

It convinced Dean, too. He mumbled an “okay, Cas” and left Cas alone again.

Cas waited until Dean’s footsteps were gone to shatter.

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are appreciated!


End file.
